


Special Occasions

by betawho



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betawho/pseuds/betawho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always time for a special occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Occasions

The Doctor and River stood, bundled up, in the doorway of the Tardis looking out on the pristine snowy landscape. Mountains reigned in the distance, a shadowy presence beyond the lazily falling snow. A wide, pine studded valley opened up at their feet, the river rimmed with ice. 

The air was soft and silent, only the crackle of the fireplace behind them punctuating the stillness. 

The Doctor had picked her up from Stormcage and taken her skiing. She hadn’t been skiing in ages, and she was frankly surprised he could do it. She was the one who’d ended up tangled and rolling. He’d had to dig her out of a snowdrift. She’d loved it. 

He’d even reconfigured one of the rooms in the Tardis into a snug little chalet for them. Redwood paneled walls, plush carpet, and a sunken fireplace in the middle. The room opened directly to the outside. So they’d stumbled back in, laughing, caked with snow, shedding frost like lumbering snowmen. 

He’d made them thick cups of hot steaming cocoa with big gooey marshmallows floating on top. Her favorite. She could still taste it. 

Now she leaned against him in the doorway, snug in skipants and wrapped in a huge black fur coat (she’d even chivvied him into an overcoat and a long scarf) she sighed at the beauty of the scene, and a feeling of total satisfaction. 

The snow drifted down, planting cool little kisses against her cheeks. She smiled. She turned and looked up at him, that dear, long bony face, with those dark gentle eyes. “What’s all this in aid of, Sweetie?”

He smiled down at her, and tenderly brushed the curls away from her face. She felt him slip something into her hand. 

She gave him a puzzled look. She turned her hand over. In it lay a tiny red velvet heart, no bigger than her fingernail. 

“Would you be my Valentine?”

—

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